burning
by phobic-i
Summary: 'She felt her head spin with feverish wishes, her pale pelt standing on end. She pressed her nose to his, feeling a scorching heat surge through her. "Is this how it feels to be on fire?" she asked him. "No, he mewed, his eyes wide and brilliant and burning through her soul. "This is how it feels to be in love with you."'


_Hypnotizing_; watching the red and orange dance together. Something about its power allured her, captured her in a trance. So she stood, looming over the delicate little flame, watching it sway back and forth, hypnotizing her. The sharp tang of smoke wafted into her nose, making her taste buds pop and water. The scent was tantalizing, deliciously acrid. The dark cloud drifted in the wind, the breeze pulling and twisting it into a new form.

Fire was amazing, and Sandpaw was entranced by its power - until the tiny little flame reached a tree. The tree went up in flames, and the pale apprentice was amazed, her luminous eyes sparkling as she watched she dancing colors intensify. But fire was dangerous to play with, so Sandpaw fought the urge to continue watching, and whirled into the undergrowth, an ear-piercing warning tearing from her throat.

_"Fire!"_

**xxx**

Sandpaw watched the kittypet's muscles ripple beneath his sleek ginger pelt, unusual for a Twoleg pet. His claws were long and pointed, and his mind was as sharp as his claws were. He jumped over Longtail's sweeping tail, meant to knock him off of his paws. Sandpaw's eyes were focused on the tom, the green color in them pleasantly clear. His pelt was as dark as the red in a flame; he landed in a patch of golden sunlight, his fur leaped to life. The sunny ray of light touched to his pelt, setting his body ablaze. His pantone figure was silhouetted in golden, flames dancing on his skin and making him seem like a brand of flame.

Sandpaw blinked, and the kittypet was no longer his brilliant brand of fire.

**xxx**

The day the kittypet - Rusty, Sandpaw soon learned - was named a warrior - Fireheart - Sandpaw saw his fur jump to life once again. As Firepaw stood beside Graypaw on the Highrock, Graystripe's chest puffed out ridiculously and Firepaw's head inclined humbly, Bluestar called them forward. Sandpaw watched as Firepaw stepped into the halcyon sunlight that warmed the smooth surface of the Highrock, Sandpaw found herself enamored with the way his pelt jumped to life, the dull ginger color leaping into cardinal that flirted with the gold of the sunlight, blending into a bewitching beautiful color: fire.

To match his attractive pelt: Fireheart, Bluestar named him.

It suited the flame well, in Sandpaw's opinion.

**xxx**

A storm of sand was a force to be reckoned with; it would buffet you persistently, until you keeled over with defeat. Sandpaw was often recognized for this tribute, though it was often mistaken for stubborn persistence, Sandpaw was given her warrior title for her spirit: Sandstorm.

Sandstorm stood atop the Highrock, beside her best friend since they were kits in the nursery - now named Dustpelt - listening to the Clan below call their new warrior names with pride swelling in their chests. "Sandstorm! Dustpelt!" they chanted, in respect of tradition. But Sandstorm paid no heed to her Clanmates at the time. Her mossy eyes scanned over the crowd, picking each pelt and identifying the warrior to match. Sandpaw - you're Sandstorm now, she reminded herself - felt her heart flutter in her chest as she spied her fire on his paws beside his shadowy best friend, his voice singing her name and his pelt dancing in the sunlight.

**xxx**

Sandstorm found herself freezing herself around the fiery warrior, keeping cool on the outside as he melted her on the inside. Hunting patrol, border patrol, another hunting patrol - to most warriors, it was probably more than monotone, with the Clans at peace for once. But Sandstorm found herself sick of patrols, but longing for time with the flaming tom. She quietly confided in her close friend, but Dustpelt offered no advice, but only jokes about her smitten for Fireheart.

And Fireheart himself was so dense, Sandstorm was endlessly frustrated that her feelings would never be revealed. Fortunately for her, their newest medicine cat was wise for such a young cat. Sandstorm found herself pouring her thawed heart out to Cinderpelt, closing her eyes so that she wouldn't have to feel that calculating stare burn into you. Cinderpelt had only grunted, pushing herself to her paws and promising she would talk to her former mentor. Sandstorm nodded gratefully to the crippled tabby, thankful that she could confide in such a good friend.

Sandstorm found herself roused awake by her fire that night.

**xxx**

"Sandstorm," Firestar whispered, pressing his muzzle to hers. Sandstorm pushed against his warm touch hungrily, feeling her heart burst into desperate flames. "Sandstorm, you're so beautiful." He rested his chin on her head, pressing their bodies together; Sandstorm felt his heat soak through her, chasing away the lonely chill she had felt since she had first seen her flame dance in the sunlight. Sandstorm tried to press closer, feeling Firestar twine his darker tail with hers. The moon saturated both of their forms at the edge of the hollow, keeping them cool as his fire infected her.

She felt her head spin with feverish wishes, her pale pelt standing on end. She pressed her nose to his, feeling a scorching heat surge through her. "Firestar," she asked, "is this how it feels to be you? Because I must be on fire."

"No," he mewed, his laugh sending vibrations through her, making her heartstrings pluck with joy. "Sandstorm, this is how it feels to be in love with you."

**xxx**

_Sandstorm had always been smitten with fire._

_And Fire was captivated by her in return. _


End file.
